


Headmaster Ritual

by blurhawaii



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 12:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3569060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blurhawaii/pseuds/blurhawaii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>School AU. Nico is no stranger to the headmaster's office but he isn't used to the company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Headmaster Ritual

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bethonie (Formula_Tea)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Formula_Tea/gifts).



-

Every week is a chance to start anew.

All the wrong people are interested in the little round-faced Finnish boy who cries himself into hysterics that first day at a new school. Noisy and unrestrained, he tangles his fists in his father's shirt sleeve and begs him to take him home. It's not how Nico wants to be remembered. He lasts only three weeks at that school; more than long enough to be called every variation of 'cry baby' under the sun. When they move, it's a much needed second chance.

At his second school some residual anger remains and he tells the first kid who speaks to him that he has no parents. Guilt drowns Nico immediately but the kid frowns and drops his eyes, believing him without question. He gives Nico an expression of abject pity that simply doesn't belong to him and when they move this time, his father comes to collect him at the gate. The look of betrayal he gets from the boy then keeps Nico from ever making the same mistake twice. It seems he's found his limits.

The third school, he has a father but he's never around. He's too busy saving the world. It's the least Nico can do, having killed the man in his head a week ago. Understandably, the other kids are doubtful but Nico finds he likes the act of weaving the implausible tale. He thrives on the challenge; getting them to believe him is something he has to earn.

It goes on for years. With every new school there's a different origin story and as he grows up, much to his father's circling delight and dislike, languages come easily to him. And while his father can be proud on the surface, a problem child is even harder to deal with when they can talk back in a language he doesn't understand. Even worse, fresh from that understanding, the stories are no longer confined to just his parents. Now it's Nico's turn to be whoever he wants to be.

It becomes a trick, a game of sorts, to see how long it takes for someone to work out the truth. Sometimes he slips up, forgets who he said he was this week, drops in and out of the put-on accent, and one of the teachers will look at him funny. It's usually not long after that he finds himself sitting on a hard plastic chair outside the headmaster's office, hearing his father's incredulous laugh get muffled through the door.

_No, my son's never been to America. Of course I'm not a government spy. He's definitely never worked at a circus, no. This is ridiculous. Where is he getting all this from? He's been telling you nothing but lies._

Afterwards, his father never shouts, just herds Nico home with a hand on his shoulder. He asks for no explanations, no promises and it soon becomes obvious that Nico's not the only one who sees every move as wiping the slate clean.

Every so often though, Nico will catch a look being sent his way. It's a look that says his father doesn't recognise his only son.

It honestly feels like a job well done to Nico.

-

Nico's sixteen when he finally finds a school he likes. He's sixteen when he finds a boy, two years older, who laughs at all his wild stories and then laughs even harder when he caves in and tells him the truth in the same breath.

Unfortunately, at this point, he also has something of a record that follows him from school to school: a folder thicker than his balled up fist which means that the truth isn't always enough to get people to believe him.

So once again, Nico finds himself sitting outside the headmaster's office only this time he's not alone.

"You didn't have to do that," Nico says and he crushes his clasped hands tighter between his knees. They're shaking, not because he's scared, god knows he's been here enough times, but because the shame and embarrassment from earlier is still flooding his system.

Jenson, his best friend, his only friend, sits to his left and there's a force, a tugging, deep in Nico's chest that makes him want to tip sideways into his friend's shoulder. There isn't a character anywhere in Nico's repertoire that would allow him to do that, nothing for him to hide behind, and so he sits up straighter and seals the urge behind as many locked doors as he can.

Every character of his is a lesson in restraint.

Beside him, Jenson clears his throat. "You know, I almost went eighteen years without getting into trouble. This is kind of a big moment for me."

"I'm sorry," Nico says but it's a reflex because, honestly, he's never been happier for the company, and he knows that makes him a bad person so it gets buried down deep, along all the other stuff he's not supposed to feel.

Jenson just snorts. "Are you kidding me? Mate, he deserved everything he got. I only wish he was a few years older so I could have gotten a hit in." He reaches out blindly and drops his hand on top of Nico's.

It's an easy gesture, born out of a spark in meeting and a swiftly built friendship but, in moving, his thumb catches the inside of Nico's knee and Nico shivers. He can't blame it on character bleed; he's only ever been himself around Jenson and that's exactly the problem.

All it took for it all to unravel was one comment, one misjudged comment from a teacher who had obviously leafed through his brick of a folder and taken nothing from it but the idea that Nico was troubled and needed to be made into an example. Because there's no way Nico's sudden enthusiasm for maths and science is a true reflection of himself, of a desire to stay for once in his life, of course not. It can only be an act; a fact which she happily shares with the whole class.

Now when everyone watches him, he's no longer just the kid who doesn't fit in anywhere, he's performance art. He's a liar, a weirdo and altogether something much worse.

One of the boys in Nico's class turns out to be sharper than he looks and, despite the years of practice, Nico proves to be a terrible actor as this boy takes one look at him, unshelled, and knows everything. All the things Nico has hidden behind a crazy story and an unusual accent, he can see it all. It's not with a friendly look that Nico's eyes follow Jenson across a room and, once he catches sight of the knowing smirk on his classmate's face, the shame is enough to curl his fingers into fists; ready for anything it brings.

He didn't plan for Jenson to be just as ready.

Nico tongues at the split in his lip and the dried blood cracks under his prodding, resuming its slow trickle down his chin. He can't even bring himself to look at the skin that's starting to darken around Jenson's eye; too scared that he'll take the wrong meaning from a guy just trying to protect his friend, it's not as though Jenson could possibly feel the say way.

He wants to turn and ask but he doesn't move. He wants to shower him in thank you kisses, both innocent and not, but instead Nico only curls further into himself.

There's a clamour of expensive shoes on not-so-expensive floor and Nico lifts his head just in time to see his father skid around the corner. He says something in a language that must sound like Morse code to Jenson's ears with plosives leave his mouth in rapid fire. He pauses for a drawn out breath, and Nico tries to cut in again and again, getting nowhere.

"Dad, stop. I can't... I don't speak Finnish, remember?"

His dad snorts and rolls his eyes but when he speaks again, it's in English. "I never understand half the words that come out of your mouth," he sighs and Nico actually hunches under the pointed weight of the words.

He may be confident in several languages but he's never made the effort for Finnish and his father often sees it as a personal insult; an attack upon himself and a slight against their father/son relationship. Nico has never bothered to correct him and it's usually around about now that his father starts to miss the chubby-faced kid who was in his shadow for years.

"What did you do?" his father asks and, to be fair, it's usually the correct direction in which to point the blame. Not today, though.

Nico huffs and it's only now that he dares to catch Jenson's eye. There's a soft encouraging smile on his face, made more believable by the accompanying bruised skin around his eye and they both realise, at the same time, that Jenson's hand is still enveloping Nico's. Jenson squeezes once and then tries to slide his hand away; Nico catches it before he can and holds on tight, not caring that his father will follow the lines of their arms.

He's sick of always being someone else.


End file.
